


Somnicide

by Ilillium (Lucillium)



Series: Lucidity [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Freeform, M/M, Other, Slow To Update, update as we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucillium/pseuds/Ilillium
Summary: HI. HEY. HOW ARE YA! I'm barely hanging by a thread,thank you very much.This is a direct continuation of Sweet Dreams, so I'm jumping right the fuck in.Also, I don't have a beta, rip. Hmu if you wanna help this running dilemma. Ta loves!
Relationships: Medic/Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Medic/Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2), Medic/Spy (Team Fortress 2), Sniper/Medibot (Team Fortress 2), Spy/Medibot (Team Fortress 2)
Series: Lucidity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/125421
Kudos: 14





	Somnicide

**Author's Note:**

> HI. HEY. HOW ARE YA! I'm barely hanging by a thread, _thank you very much_.
> 
> This is a direct continuation of Sweet Dreams, so I'm jumping right the fuck in.  
> Also, I don't have a beta, rip. Hmu if you wanna help this running dilemma. Ta loves!

Thunderous cloud collisions and gale winds competed against one another in one of the worst downpours the mercs had to fight Greymann bots under in _a_ _long_ time. 

Liam was lucky enough to stick himself on top of a ledge, well out of sight in an abandoned building out of the wailing sky. Still, the alarms blared on, a warning signaling an impending assault.

It had been roughly three months since their transfer from their last post, and this time they were stuck in a run-down, sorry excuse of a C-Rate, spaghetti-western, podunk mining town.

Apparently they had accomplished enough destruction in the past months to have Greymann upend his entire operation, causing him to move _his_ robotic camper cross-country to the middle of bumblefuck nowhere.

Of course, that was the extent of the narrative _before_ the Sniper learned about just _why_ this minerally devoid town was their new point of operation for the next few months.

Prior to Sniper’s clarity, meetings were held like clockwork after every robotic altercation. The reports reviewed and catalogued the team’s effectiveness against stopping the machines from total domination, and the reports were alarmingly troubling reviews.

They were doing a marvelous job murdering the bots into spare parts, but it didn’t take long before the Administrator sent Ms. Pauling to personally tell the team their efforts were well in vain.

Australium and money seeped from the coffers almost as freely as the mercenaries’ own blood, yet Greymann’s oppression showed no true dents or evidence of slowing down.

Towards the end of their last meeting before the move, there was a collective resignation brewing between the men (and lady), with a looming realization that this could be all over if they couldn’t keep the respawn machines operational, let alone the lights on.

Pauling had given them a few days to come up with some kind of solution to the dilemma at hand.

They sat gathered ‘round in their mess hall for a questionable meal teleported in by Demo from some sketchy place tens of miles out from their last base of operation.

“And we’re gonna be a sorry bunch'a mercs if we dun get ta thinkin’ on th’matter! Here! Take a bottle, all of ye! Scrumpy for everyone! This’ll be th’first step ta enlightenment!”

“With all due respect Demo, I’m gonna need a clear head if I gotta think about saving all our hides.”

“The Engineer is RIGHT! We must clear our heads, clear our lockers, and CLEAR OUR BASES! WE will found a new one! And THEY will follow us! And I know they will! I know this to be...10,000'n'10% true!"

“What are you talking about, Soldier? And don’t you mean _find_ a new base?” The Engineer was already exasperated, unwilling to sit through another one of Soldier’s or Demoman’s shenanigans.

Liberty’s champion deemed his interjection strong enough to sway the tides of this battle though.

“Ne-ga-tory! I’ve already solved the problem! Greymann thinks Mann Co. Headquarters is stationed in the middle of Cactus Valley!”

“Wait, how did you send notice—” Ms. Pauling moused. It was a known fact that most Soldiers barely had a reading level above that of a 4th grader, and the closest thing to writing involved crayons and vivid depictions of gibbed bodies.

“The enemies are moving there as we speak! We will trick them, and we will trap them, and then we will SLAP THEM—”

“That’s actually a damn good, well thought out plan, Soldier,” Engineer praised. He could only wonder if their patriotic partner actually got looped up in an even sketchier arrangement with the Administrator, but they would just have to figure that out later.

“Affirmative! From this point on, this is operation DECOY, and we are going to kick some STEELY ASS once again!”

And so, it wasn’t long before BLU made their way on a train to the old mining town aptly dubbed “DECOY” by Soldier, with paperwork and boasting to boot.

* * *

Liam didn’t mind the place too tough. On a usual day, red sands and no wind for hours on end accompanied by a sweltering heat was an actual reprieve from the almost insultingly mild weather they had at their last point of operation.

So the violent storm ravaging their base on mission setup boggled Sniper entirely. He was at a loss of what nature decided to throw their way, but wasn’t unfamiliar with it. He welcomed the torrential downpour with open arms, a swift reminder of the Outback he was hardened from.

A small iridescent lizard crawled through the broken window of his current sniping spot, observing outward towards the expansive town just as Liam was. 

The way "Decoy" was set up stumped the Sniper entirely; everything seemed to revolve around the newly boarded up entry cavern at one end of the town, and an equally boarded-up well at the other end. Cactus Valley was clearly a RED base before Soldier’s acquisition, with evidence of frivolous production fading off the sidings of some of the buildings. Liam figured with the dried-up water supply, RED abandoned this particular group of projects.

He set his sniper rifle aside to better re-arrange his effects; his coffee maker, kidney enlarging pills, and case of mason jars all needed to be in their proper spots for optimal professional efficiency. But as he rearranged the items, the stairs creaked ever so slightly, and Sniper turned to see who was paying him a visit.

“Herr, Sniper!”

Liam’s next breath froze in his chest before easing into a warm grin.

A slew of long, wavy, textured black hair tried its best to stay tame under what looked to be one of Soldier’s bowls-of-a-helmet, just painted with the Medic logo.

“Jürgen,” was all Sniper could fathom, doing his best to suppress any enthusiasm trying to bubble up in his throat.

It had been a while since their bedside conversation, and it still replayed in Sniper’s mind whenever he got a glimpse of the barely distinguishable Medibot.

Engineer and Sven—the true BLU Medic— worked tirelessly trying to optimize Jürgen to the best of their abilities. Some days, he’d even catch Demoman chipping in, and other days he could smell the smoke of a certain Spy lingering around the Med-Bay. Pretty much all of the team had been invested in the progress of their team’s Medibot, and Jürgen had become something to marvel in such a short time.

“Vell, zhis is a good spot to take out zhe bots, but vill you be okay in here all alone? Ve tend to be so far ahead, vhat if zhey release Spybots? Or if an enemy Pyro just happens to make zheir way up here?”

“Are you askin’ me if the spot I picked to snipe is a good’un?” Liam raised his eyebrow in question, and the Medibot’s cheeked glowed through the layer of pale, deceptively artificial skin.

“Oh! I didn’t mean any offense, Sniper! I’m just vorried about you, is all—”

“Oi know doc, ‘n’ y’don’t hav’ta worry about me. Oi’m a professional, yeah?”

“Of course, of course,” Jürgen sang back. “Vould you like me to leave some medical supplies up here for you zhen? Or request zhe Engineer put a two-way teleporter just in case—”

“Doc,” Liam started, soft on his voice. “Oi’ll be right.”

“Okay, okay. Suit yourself,” The Medibot conceded, scratching behind his neck while looking aside. It was one of the newer notions that Jürgen picked up that wasn’t hardcoded into him, but rather adopted, practiced, and habitualized.

Liam also picked up on the new compressor located in his chest. It was a small enough add-on to allow the Medibot to work under extreme climate conditions, but its aesthetic value included a visual loop that emulated the rise and fall of his chest. It was fascinating for the Sniper to watch, especially since the bodily action was coded to link with Jürgen’s emotions.

With every addition they made to him, the benefits of being less human ebbed from Jürgen, emotion and irrationality constantly conflicting with advanced logical reasoning, let alone his body betraying anything he tried to hide expressively.

Liam’s eyes trailed over Jürgen’s illuminated cheeks, hair serving as a dappled veil for the uncontrollable light show on display.

Caught on cue, Sniper cleared his throat and looked down the barrel of his rifle scope, catching a smirk from the other man in the corner of his eye.

“If it’s slow and Sven doesn’t need me, I can come back und help for a bit. He’s been teaching me how to use zhat crossbow, you know!”

“Oh yeah? Careful Doc, might just take you up on that offer.”

“Vell I hope you vould. Sure you’d like to see me take some heads and pin a few of zhem down—”

“Still...too soon.” Liam straightened up. His issues with a Medibot similar to Jürgen assaulting him in his dreams _might’ve_ faded into more consensual, pleasant ones, even if he internally denied such facts over and over again. However, there was still a strong fear of other, more feral Medibots defiling him in similar—or worse—ways, and it was still a work in progress shaking the phobia entirely. 

“Ah, sorry, sorry. Zhat was really insensitive of me. Let me go, ve’ll figure zhis out soon enough...Look, just give me a shout if you need me. Naturally, I can hear better zhan zhe rest of zhe team, so I’ll come.”

“Thanks Doc.” Liam tipped his akubra and watched the tails of the Medibot’s coat flit away before he dropped himself down from the nest again.

He finally exhaled a huge sigh, one that was pent up since the Medibot entered his domain.

This was every interaction Liam’s had with Jürgen since that night.

Treading lightly, speaking fluidly, never trying to cling onto any words for even a prolonged moment, but always managing to be swept up by a little thing said here, or a little action there.

Sniper didn’t care too tough for the harsh reality that he absolutely had some kind of interest in the ever-evolving Medibot—and didn’t see any halt of said interest anywhere and anytime soon—but it was a reality he had to come to terms with.

Otherwise, he’d be as screwed up as he was with Sven all over again, and he refused to let anything get in the way of his job performance _ever_ again.

* * *

" _Merde!"_

"Oh please, _you_ vere zhe one who asked for zhis!"

Blood jutted from Claude's side, latching onto every part of his tailored suit and painting it crimson as his own butterfly knife remained lodged, protruding from his flesh. He slid down against the side of a splinter-laden wall, suit being thick enough to deter wood-to-skin contact entirely. 

Vanilla flooded his nostrils as a particular Medi-beam honed in on the wound, numbing the initial shock and pain of the injury, but not easing the bleeding. 

His own essence ebbed from his body, yet there was still enough blood rushing downwards as the assaulting doctor hovered over his lap.

" _Fuck_ , Sven," was all he could muster after noticing the surgically ripped hole in the back of the doctor's pants. The doctor's coattails were long enough to hide such a vulgar sight, with porcelain cheeks littered with smaller hairs honing in on their prize. 

"Vell, zhat's what I'm about to do _again_ , but you need to keep _still_ \--"

"I feel _very_ strange--"

"Of course you do, you're losing blood at an alarming rate, und your body is recovering it just as fast...Zhe formula is still a prototype, but it seems to be doing exactly vhat it's supposed to be doing--"

"Just," Spy started, trying to take his hands to grip them on the doctor's hips. Contact was made, but it was an eerie sensation trying to apply enough of a grip on clothed sides. He wished they were anywhere else other than this dusty, dilapidated, dank warehouse. A bed, a sofa-- _hell_ , even a carpeted floor--

His focus returned as warmed vinyl-masked hands enclosed his own leathered ones, followed with a miserable warmth closing in around his groin. 

"Keep still, und stay avake. I'm not about to screw your corpse...at least not today--"

"Vhat zhe hell--"

"It vas a joke!...Partially." Deft hands shuffled for Spy's enthusiasm, revealing a blue-veined, reddened leaking mess of a cock, and Sven's lips curled into a smile. The sight was enough to drown all the angered noise coming from its owner.

"I sincerely hope you're joking, because if I check zhe records of zhe respawn cameraa- _aahs--_ " 

Whatever threat Spy was spewing ceased as the Medic wiggled his way down onto his cock, causing a hefty sigh and the will to grip Sven's sides with vigor again.

With the amount of sex they've been having of late, it was terribly difficult to find a moment where Sven's asshole _wasn't_ prepared, pre-lubricated, and ready to go for him, and Spy could never fix his lips to question or complain about it.

The whole situation with the doctor's absence left them seeking whatever moments they could as a means of proving their attraction and affection towards one another. 

On the turbulent train-ride to Decoy, Sven found his stubbled cheek smooshed firmly against the door of a storage closet, forehead intermittently banging against it as Spy rammed his entire length into him, small vibrations of rough transit translating as pleasure against the doctor's prostate with every rampant thrust. Jürgen had knocked on the door out of concern--and curiousity--but was shooed away as Sven pushed his ass back down onto Spy to sheath him entirely, grinding while clenching his rim.

At the Cactus Valley station, when weapons and materials were being offloaded by Heavy, Jürgen, and Pyro from the train, they managed to slip into the last cargo hold, Claude drilling into Sven in a race against time before their team caught them on top of the munitions crates. The Spy had to scoop up purchase-seeking hands from roaming all over the train control's console and latch onto them, pulling the doctor's arms and body into his own. They nearly got caught, with all the moans flooding from Sven's drool-laden haze, pleas begging for _forgiveness_ and the longevity of feeling absolutely stuffed. 

And now not a moment too soon, when they were supposed to be surveying their new battlegrounds, the two supports found themselves discovering _different_ clutch and choke points on their new base of operation.

" _Gott_ , zhis is so nice," Sven whispered, breath a warm breeze against an ear shielded by Spy's balaclava. There was a steady, borderline languid pace in the movements of the doctor's as he moved up and down on the Frenchman's length, discreetly adding copious amounts of lube to his shaft every few iterations.

"You're quieter zhan normal," the doctor continued, hands slinking under Spy's mask to reach behind his neck. "Iz zhis okay?"

"Euphoric," was all Claude could muster. His head lulled to the side and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the warm massage granted by Sven's inner walls, and the squelching sounds of his partner's ass with each lateral stroke.

"I vant to lick here, but I'd have to undress you--"

"No," Claude interrupted, lucid and airy in voice, "later."

"I know zhat," he quipped back, seating himself entirely on Spy and pulling a toe-curling groan from the man. He stayed seated on Claude's dick, rocking and grinding down on him with rhythmic hip movements that pulled even more sounds from the assassin.

"Are you close?" Medic teased, and Spy could only grunt again with a hefty upward thrust into his doctor, causing Sven to squeal.

"Very. Also, light-headed. High. You...zhis...feels amazing."

"Vell of course _I_ feel amazing, ozherwise, vhy vould you keep coming back, mm?" 

"Zhe experiments, clearly--"

"Careful vhat you ask for," Medic whispered back before shutting his Spy up with a kiss.

It didn't take too much longer before their pace picked up and Spy jutted into Medic, a few furious spurts into him that were well received and answered with splattered semen on the front of Spy's suit. 

"Ugh..."

"Oh, did you like zhis one? Can just have it cleaned, you know."

"Don't act like you're sorry, you do zhis everytime."

"Yet here you are--"

_\--Mission Begins in 20 Minutes--_

The blaring intercoms pulled sighs from both men, upset that they couldn't stay locked together a while longer, but eager to get dressed and find more places to hole themselves away for quickies.

Just as Medic hissed while dislodging himself from his partner with an audible 'pop', four raps bellowed on the door a floor below. 

"Mm,"

"I swear..." Medic started, staggering to get back to his feet and wipe his ass with the inside of his coat. "If you don't talk to him, I vill, und it von't be as nice zhis time around--"

"Relax," Claude insisted, tucking himself back in his pants. "I'll have a word with him. Just..." Spy stopped to yank his knife from his side.

"Did zhat hurt?"

"Non, but it feels like somezhing is amiss. No pain."

"Let me patch zhat up zhen."

"Please--"

Three more bangs and the door and Medic's brow furrowed entirely.

"Let 'im in. I'll talk to him."

"Of course you vill," Sven muttered, moving away and barreling towards the door, ignoring the faint soreness and tingling with every step.

He shifted the few termite-riddled boards used to barricade them in aside before shoving open the door. His tongue clicked as loud as possible, eyes leering up and down at his own, younger visage in disgust. 

"Vhat do you want _now,_ Jürgen?"

**Author's Note:**

> Starting off with dramaaa, 'cause drama's all I knoow..


End file.
